No Hope
by EisForElephant
Summary: There's a reason twelve-year olds don't win the Games. When Averett Sloane is reaped she knows she will not be coming home. Twelve year old never win, will she be the first?
1. Chapter 1

**This is the first fanfiction I have ever had the guts to publish, be sure to leave reviews on what you think**

Chapter 1

I wasn't often scared, and on the rare occasion when I was, I was never one to admit it. There was one day however, when I and countless other children across Panem were afraid and were not ashamed to admit it.

It was known as the Reaping which originated from the word reaps, meaning to harvest a crop or to reap a reward. It was ironic once one really thought about it, since the majority of Panem went to bed hungry and only one of the twenty-four children reaped would ever receive a reward, if it even could be considered that.

It was on this day, the reaping day, that I would proudly admit I was afraid. I would never show it of course, but it was there hidden behind a carefully constructed poker face. For years I had watched the children of my district aged 12-18 gather together in the town square to await their fate and it was this year that I would finally be among them.

I watched them cry for their loved ones and friends, from relief that they had escaped the dreaded Games for another year. I watched as the District celebrated the children that remained, whilst the families of the tributes chosen made their way home where they could mourn their almost certain upcoming deaths. Two years ago I had watched in despair as my older brother, the provider, the rock of the family, bravely made his way up on the stage to face the solemn District, not knowing whether he would ever return.

This years reaping was more terrifying than any other because this year my name was printed on six of the flimsy white papers that were folded neatly into one of the huge clear glass reaping bowls. I had always thought it funny that a glass ball held our lives in the balance. My name was entered more than once because my brother's death resulted in my having to take over as my family's provider, and despite the fact Ean had clearly told me never to take tesserae if he were to die, it was either that or being sent to a Community Home where Tariq and I would be separated.

Though I knew it was unlikely I would ever be reaped, as there were thousands of slips in the bowl, I couldn't help the feeling of dread and apprehension that washed over me when I considered my name being picked from the bowl.

Tariq, my baby brother, who was only three would be shipped of to the Community Home and would soon forget all about me just like he had forgotten Ean. He would grow up alone, hungry, starved and unloved. I knew, from observing them at school, that the community kids were a lot weaker than others, this was probably due to severe malnourishment and atrocious living conditions. The Community Home didn't get much funding and most of the food was procured from the inhabitants tesserae. Their poor immune systems couldn't fight off the majority of deadly viruses and were more susceptible to illnesses and diseases. Therefore it was very likely that my beloved Tariq wouldn't live very long.

Tariq had always been small, born prematurely through an emergency caesarean. He had wailed his first cry as my mother breathed her last breath. Our father had despised him from the second he learned of our mothers death, he blamed him for the death of his beloved death, despite the fact it takes more than one person to conceive a baby.

It was me and Ean who looked after him. We fed him when he needed feeding, changed him when he needed changing, comforted him when he cried and most of all we loved him. Ean used to say that we loved him enough that it didn't matter that mother was dead and father couldn't stand to look at him.

After the death of our mother, our father turned to drinking. Any spare money we had disappeared so that eventually Ean had to take out tesserae if we were to eat, despite the fact mother had never wanted him to. Father was mean, rude and abusive, not the man I had grown up calling daddy and certainly not the man I had respected fro most of my short life.

It was when Tariq was one, Ean fourteen and I nine that it happened. Our father had turned up drunk to work and no one had noticed. The chemical factory he worked in exploded. There were no survivors, 326 dead at our father's reckless hands.

We were shunned. It was a miracle we survived at all at the beginning. It didn't seem to matter that we did nothing wrong. We were related to him and that was considered a crime. Ean was old enough to work, but no one would employ him, the son of a murderer. If it hadn't been for the mercy of an old friend of our mothers, we probably would have starved to death in those first few months. Maria Turnips had been our mother's childhood best friend. Her husband was the local butcher and would give Ean odd jobs here and now. Ean had only been working there for a few months when he was reaped. He never made it home.

I could remember that day as if it were yesterday. It was the first reaping after our father's death and Ean had just turned fifteen. We were dressed in the finest clothes we owned. Ean was in an old worn blue dress shirt that had one belonged to father, and I was in a simple shabby brown dress. Tariq, who had developed a fondness for running array, was being held tightly to Ean's chest. Ean had grown stronger in the past few months from hoisting heavy meats around for the butcher, and looked more like a man than a boy to my ten-year old eyes. It had been Ean's dream to invent things before father's death. He had even received an invitation to join the Academy, but he had to decline. I knew it was unsatisfying for him working for the butcher, it wasn't challenging enough for him, but we had to eat.

When we reached the checkpoint Ean handed Tariq to me and warned me to keep a tight hold of him before striding towards the group of fifteen year olds. I made my way to the crowd of bystanders as usual, Tariq's heavy weight squirming irritatingly against my hip, desperately hoping that the reaping would be over and done with soon so we could go home.

The girl was picked first, Anneliese Marks the mayors daughter. I watched as she made her way bravely to the stage stepping away from her fellow fourteen year olds, her petite blond form shaky. I didn't know her personally, but she had stopped another girl from her class from pushing me once so I was a little saddened by her being picked.

Then it was the boys turn. My breath hitched slightly in anticipation, and then, and then she called Ean's name. I froze. Out of the thousands of slips in that stupid oversized glass bowl, our ever cheerful escort picked the one that had my brother's name on it. I watched with tear filled eyes as he jerkily made his way onto the stage, his face a stoic mask, and his eyes I knew filled with the determination not to show his fear.

I could hear the murmured whispers around me. Good riddance someone whispered. Paying for his father's sin said another. I glared through my tears at the people who were glad my adored brother was being sent to his death.

The proceedings went by in a blur before we were all dismissed. I ran towards the Justice Building, Tariq complaining on my hip. The first person I went to see was Anneliese. I had never thanked her for saving me from her classmate's ruthless actions. She looked surprised to see me, she even laughed when I explained why I was there. Any decent person would have done the same, she said before I left wishing her luck.

My visit with Ean was much more emotional. When the peacekeeper let us through I ran into his arms ignoring Tariq's whine of protest to being squashed between us. We simply held each other for a few minutes before Ean started talking. He loved us, he said. He would try his best to come home. In the meantime I wasn't to take any Tessera and I would have to try to find a job. I knew Ean knew it was pointless though. School was mandatory until you were thirteen and I had just turned ten. If Ean didn't come home Tariq and I were headed for the Community Home.

Ean kissed us both on our foreheads and hugged us both one more time before being pulled away by peacekeepers. That was the last time I ever saw him. As I left the Justice Building I contemplated Annaleise's last words to me _any decent person would have done the same. _Panem didn't have a lot of decent people I decided. Weeks later my prediction was confirmed when Anna died on the third day of the games, stabbed in the back by the girl she had allied with and trusted.

Life after those particular games was tough. I had no means of procuring any money and we were hungrier every day. I knew that if we were to survive we would have to enrol ourselves into the Community Home soon. Surprisingly it was Beetee, who had been Ean's mentor in the games that was the first to approach me after his death as well to offer me help.

Due to his insistence Tariq and I moved in with him and Wiress. Almost immediately we fell into a comfortable routine. Everyday after school I would make my way to the Victor's Village where I would cook and clean for them. They tried to tell me it wasn't necessary, but I was much too proud to accept what I thought of as charity so they allowed me to keep my pride intact, and help keep the house orderly. I did however know that they appreciated my cooking, as they were both awful at it. I also liked to make sure they actually came down to eat, as I suspected they were often to immersed in new ideas to eat most of the time since they were far to skinny.

I grew fond of the adorable inventing couple. They were quiet and observant and mostly kept to themselves in public, but were very out going when you got to know them. Beetee got me interested in technology again, he liked to tell me interesting facts, he asked for my opinion on all his inventions and he let me borrow his books when I admitted to finding my schoolwork dull, boring and unchallenging. Wiress was warm and motherly, always trying to make me laugh. She had taken a liking to Tariq and looked after him when I was at school.

I was grateful for them, their generosity and kind hearts. But despite their reassurances that I wouldn't get picked this year I made them promise to look after Tariq anyway. I laughed sheepishly when they asked what I thought they would do with Tariq, throw him in a dumpster?

Eventually the day came when I was standing for the first time among the crowd of District 3 children, on the much dreaded day of the year which would decide whether or not we lived or died. I sucked my sore thumb nervously. The peace-keepers had pricked my finger for a drop of blood when I had signed in to identify me, and they hadn't been to gentle about it either, leaving the wound open and leaking blood.

The crowd I was standing in was getting restless and my fellow twelve-year old's anxious whispers and frantic eyes were making me more nervous than I was before. I tried distracting herself; Tariq's birthday was coming up. He was getting so big, so big that I couldn't carry him around any more. He looked more like Ean every day, I thought morosely. All three of us had shared the same thick black-brown curls, and high cheekbones, creamy skin and golden eyes, but Tariq was a boy so looked more like Ean then me.

I loved my little brother more than anything else in the world. I had always been protective over him, even more so after Ean's death. When peacekeepers came round after those dreaded games to take him away from me, I pounced on them with a knife. Luckily for me, the peacekeepers thought I was just having a hard time coping with Ean's loss, and Beetee arrived soon after to sort out the mess.

A loud screeching noise pulled me out of my thoughts. I winced as Tropicana Weedle, our escort, noisily adjusted the microphone. Tropicana looked as ridiculous as always. Her skin was dyed a pale, unnatural white and her lips, eyes and afro hairdo were bright orange which clashed horribly with her hot pink outfit and shoes. She smiled brightly towards her unwilling audience her fake, white teeth blinding.

It disgusted me that the citizens of the Capitol could afford to make themselves look like freaks, whilst people in my district died daily from starvation and curable infections. It was humiliating and repulsive that the Capitol treated the Hunger Games like a sporting event from the past; pitting each district against each other like their lives did not matter.

One day, I thought darkly, I would like to see how the capitolites would feel if it were their children, capitol children, fighting to the death. I hoped that day would come soon. I watched scowling as District 3's Mayor made his way to the stage. He had never been the same after Anneliese's death. She had been his only child and his wife had soon gone mad with grief. He was much quieter nowadays going about his responsibilities swiftly and without much enthusiasm.

He began his compulsorily speech. It was the same one every year accompanied with the same video of how Panem came to be. In History class at school we learned that Panem was once known as America. From the ashes of a war-torn America Panem rose. It was ruled by the tyrannous Capitol which took advantage of the surrounding thirteen districts. We were given the worst food, the shabbiest clothing and the poorest housing.

He tells us about the rebellion, how we fell, how District 13 was destroyed, and how as punishment, the Hunger Games came to be. To make sure we understood who was in charge, every year two tributes one girl and one boy would be picked from each of the twelve remaining districts to participate in the barbarity of the Hunger Games. Where they would then proceed to fight to the death, the last one standing was the winner, and would become an instant celebrity in the Capitols eyes.

He read out the list of past District 3 victors. In the last seventy years District 3 has only had three. Beetee who won the 48th Hunger Games, Wiress who won the 53rd and Tiffa Johnson who won the 15th and died of morphine overdose a few years back. She was an addict which I had never fully understood until we had been made to watch her games in school one day. It had been one of the most gruesome games I had ever seen, and I had always made sure to smile at her whenever I saw her after that.

Tropicana takes over after that. She grins that fake cheshire smile again before broadcasting that she would pick the boy first this year as a change. I wanted to punch her. It didn't matter who got picked first the end result would be the same. They would both end up dying.

I watch as she reaches into the giant reaping bowl and plucks out one of the folded names with her perfectly manicured and done up fingers. She opens the folded paper up and the tension in the air becomes thicker as she clears her throat and pronounces clearly, so that everyone can hear;

'Marius Blakely'.

I could hear sobs of grief coming from the crowd of bystanders watching us indubitably a family member. The name is unfamiliar to me so my eyes follow those of the girl next to me, to see a tall boy slowly make his way up to the stage through the crowd of eighteen year olds. His last year, such a pity, he would have gotten by never having to worry about the games again if he hadn't been picked. The peacekeepers watched him warily as if he would try to make a run for it. It was ridiculous really; we were the smart district, we weren't stupid enough as to try to run when we knew the consequences.

I had never met Marius Blakely, but he was clearly well off wearing a clean white shirt and dress pants that had yet to be stained grey by the permanent cloud of mist and soot that seemed to continuously surround our district. He had red hair, an oddity around here where the majority of the district was blonde with a few dark haired people now and then. He wasn't crying nor did he look confident. In fact he had a slightly lost look on his face, like he didn't know where he was as he stood there on the stage.

We clapped in sync with each other like we always did though there was nothing happy to be clapping about, as one of our own had been most probably sentenced to his death, but Tropicana just laughed oblivious to our distaste for her and everything her surgically enhanced body stood for.

After shaking Marius's hand Tropicana walks towards the other reaping bowl, the one full to the brim with the names of the hundreds of girls that inhabited District 3, the bowl that held six slips of paper with my name neatly printed on them.

I watch as her hand digs deep into the bowl before she extracts one. I watch in slow motion as she opens that flimsy piece of paper and that's when it hits me, that feeling of dread and apprehension that washes over me every time something bad is about to happen.

I shiver, my eyes set firmly on the stage as Tropicana announces the unlucky tribute, and the name coming out her mouth?

It's mine.

**Sooooooo what did you think? Was it any good? The next chapter should be up soon but it may be a little delayed due to exams: D**


	2. Chapter 2

**I was smiling all day yesterday thanks to all the people who reviewed:**

**Smiles123**

**Nevergone4ever**

**Bluebacon**

**So I decided to upload early despite the fact I should be preparing for a French exam soon: D**

**Chapter 2**

'Averett Sloane', Tropicana said again in her much too sweet and patronising voice.

'Up you come sweetie' she urged in what I was sure was meant to be a motherly tone, but came out as pretty nasally.

I remained frozen. It was me. My name she called. Mine. I noticed all the cameras were pointed at me and nearly fainted. I wasn't a shy person, not really, but I'd like to see how you would feel when the whole of Panem was watching you on live television on what was probably the worst day of your young life.

I had seconds to decide what strategy I should go with. I could get up there and be all confident, but that would just put a target on my back. I could try intimidating, but I was only twelve, and there was no way I was going to go with the weak angle. My breathing was becoming laboured as I panicked, thoughts and ideas rushing through my mind like a waterfall. The peacekeepers were glaring at me now, and the crowd was getting nervous so I plastered a small fake smile onto my face, and shakily made my way onto the stage.

'There you are dear', Tropicana screeched shrilly through the microphone.

As I stood there next to Marius facing my submissive district, I wished for the first time in my life that I hadn't been born. I had always found it odd that people continued bringing babies' into this cruel world. Mainly because they had nothing worthwhile to live for; it wasn't like there wasn't an abundance of birth control available after all. There were rumours of course; that every odd batch of contraceptives was tampered with on purpose. It made sense really, who else would do the Capitol's dirty work? It wasn't like they were going to go and get their perfect hands dirty.

I had never regretted my existence before though. I was alive and grateful for it. Despite the continuous obstacles thrown at me I have always overcome them, nearly always came out the winner. But the Games...Well they were different. You didn't die quickly like in the odd explosions that occurred every now and then in the factories, or from the viruses and diseases that would crop up every few months or so. No, in the games it was more often then likely that your death would be gruesome. It was statistics; 5% of the contestants were likely to die from infections and the like. 10% would die from some form of Capitol interference such as mutts. 10% of the tributes would die a quick death leaving the other 75% to die slow painful deaths, either for the amusement of the Capitol or for the amusement of sick tributes.

It was impossible not to notice that it was the younger contestants, such as me, that had it harder than others. We were smaller therefore considered weaker, so our mentors didn't bother much with us, paid more attention to their other tribute who they thought stood a better chance. The younger ones either died in the Bloodbath or in the first few days due to their lack of survival skills.

It wasn't very often another tribute relished the death of the younger contestants which I assumed I could use to my advantage. In fact older tributes seemed to always avoid it leaving it up to wild animals or capitol devices.

I wasn't stupid though. I could only get so far on my own. In the last 70 years there hasn't been a single winner that was twelve years old. If one even came close tow inning they always died, and it was really hard for me not to notice that they were usually killed by something from the capitol. I shouldn't be noticing those types of things; those types of things could get me killed..

I wished I was dead. I wish I had died years ago. Better to have died amongst your loved ones than to die for the entertainment of some sick, barbaric, freaks who thought it was all a game. I would try though. I wasn't a quitter; I would try just so that Tariq would know I didn't give up without a fight that I tried to come home to him. So I would shake Marius's hand good naturedly like we wouldn't be trying to kill each other in a couple of weeks. I would smile at the camera like I was happy to have been picked, and I wouldn't give up, because I wasn't a quitter, because they did not rule me. I was my own person, and when my time came I would see Ean again, and know I tried my best.

#####

I was led off the stage by a group of peacekeepers. A group. Did they think I was going to make a run for it? It was a tempting idea I admitted to myself. To run away, to leave this godforsaken place and never return, it didn't seem like such a bad idea now that I really thought about it. I could see the appeal of it, not that it could ever happen. I'd be shot dead before I even ran five meters. Thinking over all my thoughts over the past few years, I regretted ever thinking that the tributes who did try to run were stupid. They weren't stupid, they were just desperate.

It wasn't long before we reached the Justice Building. It was once a sparkling white marble, but the smoky air had stained it a permanent grey, just like it had stained the skin and clothing of all of those that inhabited district 3 a dull tinged grey. I flinched remembering the last time I was here was when I was saying goodbye to my brother. Back then I had been too preoccupied with the realisation that I may never see Ean again to be bothered to take in my surroundings. It was only now that I could appreciate the rich and lush furnishings that the building was made up of. It was bright and exaggerated much like Tropicana and the escorts before her, but unlike Tropicana it was beautiful too.

I took delight in the bright walls, the colourful floors, the soft chairs and the comfortable, squashy couches. I had never seen such luxury before in my life. The closest I had ever come to this was the bowl of strawberries my mother had saved for months to afford to buy for my birthday. I suppose if I was going to die, I should at least get to experience the comforts I had been void of all my life.

Wiress was my first visitor which was odd because I would see her later on the train, but it turned out she had brought Tariq along so I could say goodbye. Wiress couldn't bring him with us so she had given him to Maria to look after until they got back. Maria I remembered was the woman who had helped us out when Ean needed a job after our father's death; she was our mother's childhood best friend. I was okay with that, which again was odd because I didn't trust many people with Tariq, but the thought that I was probably going to die was helping me re-evaluate my opinions on people. I could trust Maria with Tariq, that was until Wiress and Beetee came back of course.

He sat on my lap blabbering about how funny the orange lady on the stage looked and asking where I was going and if he could come to. I tried to hide my horror at the thought of Tariq being in the Games with me or being in the Games at all. I shook my head in fake sympathy and told him he couldn't come with me, but looking at his sad, baby face and cute, chubby cheeks I didn't have the heart to tell him I wasn't coming back. So I just smiled and told him I had something important to do, and that I would be home soon.

Our time ran out and the peacekeepers arrived to escort me to the train that would whisk me away from District 3 for what I hoped was not forever. I gave Tariq one last hug before giving him back to Wiress.

'Don't let him watch', I said my face crumpling slightly as she left the room. She nodded and I knew she would pass the message along to Maria. Tariq had been too young to remember watching Ean's Games but I wasn't. I remembered everything, it haunted me and I relived it all in the night often waking up screaming from the nightmares. I had not listened to him when he told me not to watch, and had suffered the consequences. I would not let Tariq loose his innocence so young, not yet, not because of me.

~####~

I had seen trains before but they were the slow, old fashioned ones the Capitol used to transport the goods our factories produced. Nothing like the high-tech, lavish one I was being pushed towards. I looked at in awe wondering what made it run, and making sure to remind myself to ask Beetee later as some of the metals the train was made up off were unfamiliar to me. I tried to ignore the Camera's centred on my awestruck face and the fact that Tropicana seemed to thrive off of the attention presented to her.

Tropicana reminded her a lot of the poor, lost, starving puppies that hung around the town square at home. When it wanted something it simpered and pouted, and when it had your attention it preened and tried to look cute. Tropicana was like the puppies I thought glancing at her in disgust, except her simpering and pouting looked ridiculous especially since her lips were too puffy, and big for her face, probably the result of plastic surgery. It also doubtlessly cost enough to feed the whole district for a year too, I contemplation irritably.

'Watch your step', she snapped as we step entered the train guiding us through the bright, narrow hallway.

'That's your room Marius', she said pointing to the door on the left, 'and that's yours Averett', pointing to the door opposite.

'Ill leave you to get changed before dinner, shall I?', she announced before flouncing off her rancid perfume still stinking up the air, and her frothy pink skirts swishing behind her leaving us standing in the hallway staring in the direction she had left in.

I turned my head to find Marius smiled awkwardly at me. He seemed nice, if we were at home right now I would be most likely be smiling back. But we weren't at home. We were on a train headed fro the Capitol where we would then be prepared to head off into our plausible death. So I ignored him and walked into the room Tropicana had said was mine slamming the door behind me to make sure he got the hint. This wasn't the time to be making new friends.

The room was huge and spacious with large, glass windows which let dim light from outside filter in. I now understood why the hallways were so narrow, when the train was quite large from the outside. There was a huge king-sized bread, covered in a supple, warm looking duvet and brimming with fluffy pillows of all different sizes. I gave into my childish nature and threw myself into the cavern of softness letting out a girlish squeal in happiness. I burrowed my face and body into the pillows taking a deep breath to inhale the fresh, clean smell of the newly made bed that was just for me. I was thrilled with the idea that I would be sleeping in it tonight.

Sighing I got of the now mussed bed and examined the rest of the room. There were two other doors apart from the one I had come in from. One was open and I could see a large bathroom inside. The other door was closed, but on closer exception was revealed to be a closet stuffed with clothing. Feeling unclean amongst the shininess of the capitol I was surrounded in I decided to take a shower. I made my way into the bathroom stunned at the gleaming white tiles and surfaces that greeted my eyes.

I was ecstatic to see that there was a built in mechanical shower. It had been designed a few years ago by a boy from the Academy. Though the majority of inventions and technology were thought up of and created in District 3, we were never actually given the honour of using them. Nope, they were shipped of to the Capitol where some rich Capitolite would take credit for someone else's designs. I had seen the blue prints of the design before so I knew how to work it. Eager to try it out I quickly stepped into the shower. Surveying the rows upon rows of buttons I decided on a simple strawberry scented shampoo, conditioner and soap.

I had always adored strawberries ever since my mother had managed to get some for my birthday for me to taste, and smelling of them reminded me of her. I watched in distaste as filthy black-grey water ran down the drain grimacing at the thought of how dirty I must have been I scrubbed harder at my hair and skin. When you're surrounded by people who look just as bad as you do, you don't really feel the need to show them up by washing the grey tinge from your skin everyday. I stayed under the hard torrent of water until the water running down the drain was clear.

Shivering, I exited the shower pressing the button which was meant to dry your body and hair. When I was satisfied that I was dry and my hair neat I grabbed a towel to cover myself up, and wrapped it around my frail, skinny body. Making my way out of the bathroom and into the closet I grabbed the essentials, plus a plain pair of light blue jeans and a white T-shirt before slipping my district token around my wrist. It had been my brothers token too. A simple bracelet made out of twisted wires, scrap metal and pretty stones I had found on the ground. I had spent ages making it for Ean's birthday, and was quite proud that he never found out about my secret project until the day I presented it to him.

'Dinner time', Tropicana's voice trilled piercingly through the door whilst she repeatedly thumped her fists against the hard wood of the door.

Grabbing a rubber band from a box in the closet I pulled my long, brown-black curls into a high ponytail and left the room following the sound of Tropicana's clacking shoes.

As we got closer to what must be the dining cart, my mouth watered at the absolutely divine smells coming from inside. I smiled at Beetee and Wiress who were already seated, and ignored an edgy Marius who was also sitting down waiting for the food.

'You had a whole wardrobe of pretty clothes to choose from and you're wearing that!' Tropicana said her wide eyes staring at me incredulously.

I rolled my eyes at the horror in her voice, like I had committed some sort of crime. Somebody call the fashion police! She was one to talk. Didn't she realise the skin-tight, neon blue outfit she had changed into clashed horribly with her pale skin, orange wig and pink eyes. She was being a hypocrite; at least I was dressed in something decent. The jumpsuit she was wearing was positively indecent. With a scandalous low cut top as well as triangles of the shiny material cut out of the suit, practically her whole stomach back and legs were showing. She might as well walk around in her underwear there wouldn't be much of a difference.

But of course I didn't say any of this out loud. She held my life in her hands after all. If she liked me the Capitol liked me and the longer I lived and I kind of wanted to live, the longer I lived the better. So I ignored her. Realising that I wasn't going to retaliate Tropicana moved onto to other subjects.

'Sooooooo isn't this the bit where you ask them what they're strengths and weaknesses are?' she asked Beetee batting her spidery eyelashes at him like he wasn't practically married and his practically wife wasn't sitting next to him.

Beetee turned to look at me enquiringly. I shook my head indicating I didn't want to talk to him in front of Marius who didn't seem to have a problem spilling his secrets to Wiress.

'Im not very smart, not like Averett anyways, but Im not to bad at hand to hand. I won a competition at school once', I overheard him telling Wiress. I frowned; I never knew we had hand to hand competitions at school. It probably wasn't very popular then otherwise I would have heard about it.

It was a good idea to have clubs like that though. When Ean was reaped a flip switched on in my head. I realised I couldn't rely on the odds to get me out of the Games anymore nor could I rely on my intelligence. I needed to learn how to protect myself, but because I was so small it was either knives or a slingshot. I chose the former, I was a quick learner, almost perfect, but I was human so I missed my target now and then.

It was then Marius decided to cut into my thoughts.

'Shouldn't we be watching the reapings?' he asked his brown eyes wide and earnest.

'Might as well', Tropicana grumbled having given up flirting with Beetee seeing his lack of response to her supposed feminine wiles, 'since the food isn't here yet'.

She clicked her fingers and a tall, light haired man dressed all in white appeared beside her.

'Put on the recaps' she demanded.

I watched in disbelief as he did just that. I couldn't believe Tropicana could be so rude. He wasn't a slave that was abolished thousands of years ago in the 1800's, when Panem was still America. She had no right to speak to him like that. I watched heatedly as a large, slim projector appeared. The seal of Panem flashed on the screen before flashing to the reapings. Quickly I grabbed a napkin nearby; I turned by head around the room looking for something to write with. The tall, fair haired man in white from before seemed to know what I was looking for, and passed me a pen. I thanked him and smiled gratefully a little unnerved by how shocked he looked at the kind gesture. Was everyone as ill mannered as Tropicana in the Capitol?

I turned towards the projector just as the national anthem finished. District 1 was first, a career district; as usual someone stepped up to volunteer. I was surprised to note that Marba Collis wasn't very pretty, very unlike other years which produced beautiful, buxom girls the Capitol went gaga over. She was of average height with dull blonde hair and plain features. Her eyes on the other hand were deadly, a cold dark brown that gleamed with maliciousness. Her district partner, Deniel Storke, was okay in the looks department, but wasn't particularly threatening.

Districts 2 were also both volunteers. I snorted in disgust at the competitive looks the district gave each other as their children battled it out for the right to volunteer; like they couldn't wait to see their children die. True, the majority of victors were from career districts but it was still horrifying.

The girl tribute was called Darla Brooks; she stood out because despite how petite she was she had a triumphant look on her face as she beat the other girls to the stage to volunteer. She wouldn't have volunteered if she didn't have something up her sleeve. Her district partner and fellow tribute though stood out for a completely different reason. He was absolutely huge. Deadly looking, his biceps were probably bigger that my head and he looked very confident with light brown hair and cruel dark blue eyes. I knew Warren Duke was someone to watch out for.

Then they were showing our district. I didn't pay much attention to the commenter's words about Marius as the fair-haired man and some others also dressed all in white had brought in the food and I was happily digging in. I only started payed attention again when the commenter said my name.

'Isn't she cute Ceaser?' one of them squealed. 'She's so nervous'

'Absolutely adorable, like a little angel, look at those eyes!' gushed another.

That's when I got an idea. They already thought I was all cute and innocent so why not play it up a little? No one would expect a cute little angel of being up to something. I could play cute; I could act dumb if I really wanted to. Yes, it would work. It had to.

I went back to watching the reapings. District 4 was another district commonly known career district. This year seemed different than most because when a weedy, gangly boy was reaped no one volunteered. I watched him closely for a minute looking for anything untrustworthy in his face despite the fact he was crying, but I couldn't see anything very threatening about him. The girl Annie Cresta was incredibly beautiful with long dark straight hair and bright green eyes, but she too was crying as she made her way up to the stage and no one volunteered for her either.

District 5 had no one note worthy. Neither did 6,7,8,9 or 10. District 11's boy seemed to be related to one of the victors, Chaff who would undoubtedly be doing his best to help him, and 12 presented the same scrawny, underfed tributes as always. I did however remind myself to keep an eye on them all during training since they could have just been acting for the camera. My brother learnt this the hard way.

Pushing away my notes I went back to the food that I had piled onto my plate. Most of it was plain, simple stuff because my stomach wasn't used to rich food and had to be eased into it slowly. Nevertheless though I had to avoid the stews, fancy sauces and deserts, it was still the best food I had ever eaten. There were fried potatoes and freshly made bread which was studded with nuts and dried berries. There were all kinds of meats and fish and vegetables and despite the fact I knew it was not a good idea to eat so much I couldn't help myself, and by the time I had finished I felt slightly ill.

Getting up, I wearily made my way to the door of the dinner cart. Bidding my mentors goodnight I stumbled down the hallway and into my room where I promptly fell into bed. Within seconds I was asleep exhausted from the day's revelations.

**Another Chapter! The next one I will try to get the next chapter out by next Wednesday or Thursday: D**

**PLZ R&R I like to know what my readers think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**5 reviews and I've only written two chapters, I can't tell you how happy that makes me!**

**So this chapter is dedicated to all those people who read my story and told me what you though: D**

**I try to make chapters as long as possible because I prefer long chapters myself and they are usually 7 pages on word (this one is 11) but does anyone prefer shorter chapters?**

**I do not own Hunger Games. All rights go to the wonderfully talented author Suzanne Collins! I only own my OC's of which include:**

**Ean**

**Averett**

**Tariq**

**Tropicana**

**Marius**

**Marmalade**

**Rumplestiltskin**

**Gingerbread-Man**

**Ophelia**

**A number of tributes**

**A few members of District 3**

**Chapter 3**

A loud thumping noise I vaguely recognised woke me up in the morning. I glanced at the digitally installed clock near the bed and groaned when I saw the time. It was too early!

'Get up Averett!' Tangerine trilled, thumping on the door a few more times for good measure before the clacking of her platform shoes could be heard walking away. I moaned quietly in protest shoving my head under the soft, soft pillow sighing contentedly. My limbs felt heavy and I felt sludgy and groggy waking up from the first proper night's sleep I had ever gotten.

Honestly, it felt a little weird.

It was the first time Tariq hadn't jumped on me to wake me up and even though I had found it annoying back then I somehow missed it now, and it made me sad to think it might never happen again. Regrettably, I wriggle under the warm covers one more time, savouring the warmth before reluctantly standing up on my wobbly feet. Blearily I noticed I was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, having not been bothered to change the night before. Walking into the bathroom to wash up and get ready for the day I remembered that today we would inevitably be reaching the Capitol. I sighed irritably missing my bed already.

It didn't take me long to get ready. Within a few minuets I was done, and so with a rosy face and tidy hair pulled back in a braid I made my way towards the dining cart, my stomach rumbling in anticipation. It seemed to remember the mouth watering feast it had received the night before, and was eager for more. I wore a darker pair of jeans than before and an orange elbow length shirt.

The outfit wasn't much different than yesterdays since I didn't see any reason as to why I should try to impress Tropicana especially after her incredibly mean comments yesterday. Besides I had to look innocent didn't I, and how better to look innocent than to have no idea what to wear and be sooooooo grateful towards the Capitol for 'educating' me in the ways of what they called 'fashion'.

I entered the dining cart, glumly realising I was the first one there and that Tropicana was nowhere in sight. It would be just like her to wake me up first wouldn't it, couldn't have let me have a few more minuets sleep. It was probably her punishment for not wearing what she deemed as 'appropriate' yesterday despite the fact that she looked like a stripper made up like a clown.

There was a range of breakfast dishes piled up on a long table on one side of the cart, and a pile of plates next to it so I assumed we served ourselves. Grabbing a plate I filled it up with a lot of carbohydrates and proteins to keep me going for the hard day that was looming ever closer on the horizon.

Plopping myself on a hard leather back chair, I stared out of the open window at the rolling hills we passed in a blur. The grass flew by in a flash of green; random splotches of colour splattered the green flash like paint on a canvas. All the while I forced myself to chock down some of the food piled on my plate. It was only right that I be nervous I chastised myself, like a mother would her child. It wasn't everyday that I was possibly being sent to my death.

I had just finished pushing down the last few bites of food from my rapidly emptying plate when the others entered the cart. For a few minuets only the rattling of cutlery and shuffling of feet could be heard as Tropicana, Beetee, Wiress and Marius selected what they wanted to eat. As they sat down I made sure to glare extra hard at Tropicana who had woken me up at least 30 minuets earlier than the others. She smiled innocently back at me, like she had no idea what she had done wrong.

Beetee and Wiress looked wide awake as always, something I was used to since at home I always found them in the kitchen waiting for breakfast when I got up, already minds deep into their projects. They bid me good morning before burrowing into their breakfast whispering to each other now and again. Marius on the other hand looked the complete opposite; it was rather obvious he did not have a good nights rest. His eyes were red and swollen were clear indications that he had probably cried himself to sleep last night.

Moreover his pale withdrawn face held as much hope of surviving the day as mine did. Nevertheless he still bid me good morning, and as had become routine I ignored him. I felt a little bad about it when I noticed his shoulders slouch, and a sad look come across his face. I was quickly distracted from my treacherous thoughts however when Beetee began to explain what would happen when we got to the Capitol.

'You're not going to like what they do to you', Beetee explained his face serious.

'But it's for your own good', Wiress cut in smiling gently at Marius's scared face.

'Especially if you want to attract sponsors' Tropicana chimed in. For a minute I stared at her in shock. Did something intelligent and not at all insulting leave her mouth? I gaped, flabbergasted at her, my chin slightly dropped and my eyes wide, but of course she had to ruin it.

'After all, absolutely no one would want you now would they, you have nothing going for you, so the best we can hope for is for your looks to gain some attention'.

Marius was starting too look a little green, and Wiress being the motherly woman she is quickly intercepted Tropicana's insulting rambling.

'I spoke to your stylists on the phone last night. They seemed nice and oddly sympathetic to your situation'

Marius looked confused and to be honest so was I. Hunger Games stylists were renown for their designs, and despite the fact that every few years a lame costume would appear the capitolite's would still love the designer for the specific reason that they were designing clothing for the games. A Hunger Games stylist was a mini-celebrity, so it shocked me that ours would feel sympathy towards us for being in the Games as the Games are their livelihood, what they're fellow stylists live for.

It made me curious. Though I had always considered myself a fair person never judging someone before I knew them properly, I had always classed the Capitol and the people who lived there as idiotic, emotionless barbarians. I never really considered the fact that not all of them were like that. It just seemed natural to clump all of them into a group and label them morbid freaks. I wanted to meet them. These stylist that were 'sympathetic' towards Marius and I.

'You'll love the Capitol!' Tropicana exclaimed her animated face interrupting my runaway thoughts.

'Everyone is civilised and clean! It will be so good for you to spend some time amongst refined people! Best of all I get to spend more time with my cousin Effie' she said grinning happily.

'She's a District escort too you know, just started this year' Tropicana chirped her face full of pride.

'Of course they gave her 12 but that's only to be expected seeing as she's a newcomer and all...' she rambled.

Ignoring Tropicana's rambling I raked through my memory bank trying to remember the escort from 12 this year. Suddenly something clicked and I remembered the tall, pale women with hair and lips similar to Tropicana's but in hot pink. She dressed similarly as well favouring the colour violet, but thankfully was much more modest than her cousin.

'... Oh will you look at the time', Tropicana gasped 'we'll be there soon'.

Sure enough within a few minutes the train began to slow down and a clear, faraway view of tall, glass buildings could be seen from out of the window. It was magnificent, like nothing I had ever seen before. The designs were stunning nothing like home, but clearly much more expensive. Resentment boiled under my skin as I thought about the thousands of people living in the surrounding districts who had no where to sleep at all whilst all this money was so readily available in the Capitol.

The train went through a tunnel and emerged through a bright white, flashing light. The white flash turned out to be numerous flashes I learnt were from the dozens of photographers waiting our arrival outside the tunnel. Hundreds of Capitolite's, with their bright hair, clothing and faces waved madly at us through the window, cheering our names.

I wrinkled my nose at the gaudiness of it all; I was feeling slightly nauseous watching all the bright colours flash by. Marius was also watching the crowd, but whilst I was turning green from the colours, I suspecting he was turning green from the nerves. Tropicana though was basking in all the attention she was receiving as our escort, and was waving merrily as the train shot past her fellow citizens, a bright smile on her fake face.

The train gradually came to a halt, and the white clad servers from the night before came forward from their silent positions beside the long dining table in the corner, still laden with food to collect our empty plates. Beetee and Wiress got up, their faces lit up with excitement. Although they hated the Games as much as any decent person did, them even more so since they had experienced their horrors, the Games was the only time of the year that they got to see their friends who were victors from other districts. Every year after the opening ceremony all the victors would meet up on one of the floors and catch up. This year it was Beetee and Wiress's turn to host.

Marius and I also shakily stood up, and walked out of the train. I readied myself for the next few hours where I would have to pretend to be innocent, while I was anything but.

Outside the roar of cheering crowds greeted us. Using Marius as a shield I peeked out from behind him and smiled shyly towards the audience before hiding behind him again. I smiled victoriously when I overheard the words 'cute', 'adorable' and 'little angel' being exclaimed. My rather brilliant plan was working.

I remained behind Marius, peeking out behind him every now and then to keep up my charade, until we entered the car that would take us to the headquarters. Beetee and Wiress who had guessed my plan smiled approvingly at me whilst Tropicana and Marius just looked at me confused.

'I never would have thought, that you of all people would have stage fright', Wiress commented to get them off my back.

I shrugged pretending to look embarrassed, 'I don't know what happened, everyone was staring at me, I was so nervous', I stuttered forcing tears to glimmer in my eyes.

Tropicana looked sympathetically at me, and before I could comprehend what she was thinking she was hugging me tightly to her bosom which was spilling precociously from her too tight shirt.

'Oh you poor dear, it's not your fault you lack the qualities needed to succeed', she trilled shrilly a hint of pity in her voice.

I nodded in pretend agreement glancing at Marius at the corner of my eye. He like Tropicana seemed to have fallen for my act and was smiling sadly at me, like he could already imagine attending my funeral. I decided to act acting to my ever growing pile of redeeming qualities.

In no time at all the car reached the building we would be calling home for the next short week prior to the Games. It was ginormous which I expected especially since Wiress had once told me there was a floor for each district as well as everything else, and there were 12 districts. As we got out of the car a crowd of photographers swarmed around us, it was too late to hide behind Marius, and keep up my façade so for good measure I made sure to smile sweetly at everyone we passed until we reached the elevator, at which point I froze.

'No.'

Tropicana frowned, 'No what?'

'There is no way I am getting on that thing!'

'It's perfectly safe', Beetee cut in smiling reassuringly at me.

'For you maybe, but not for me', I stated staring incredulously at him.

The 'thing' as I had rightly dubbed it was made of glass. Glass! Didn't they know how delicate glass was? There was no way I was getting on it. If it were to brake I would plummet to my death, and what a funny story that would be. I could see it now, everyone across Panem whispering about that poor tribute that died before the Games even started. It wasn't happening.

'I'll take the stairs.'

Tropicana huffed in frustration, before shaking her head at me, like she was asking the world what she had ever done to deserve such an impertinent tribute. She stalked into the elevator, irritably tapping her leg as she waited for Marius, Beetee and Wiress. I winced, hearing the clicking of the delicate glass beneath her feet tinkling into my ears. It was their funeral.

Waving goodbye to my mentors I looked around for the stairs. My brow wrinkled in confusion as I realised that I really should have asked for directions before they left. I turned towards the direction we had entered in hoping to catch a bystander and ask for directions when I spotted the fair haired, white-clad server from the night before come in with the other servers carrying large cardboard boxes.

'Excuse me', I said politely. He looked down at me enquiringly. 'I don't suppose you know where the staircase is?' Smiling down at me he pointed to the right where I could just about see the handle of a staircase poking out. Letting out a quick thanks I ran in the direction of the stairs, Beetee and Wiress would probably be wondering where I was.

/

Thankfully District 3's penthouse was only on the third floor, so I didn't have a long way to climb. As soon as I opened the grande doors I was accosted by what I assumed was my brightly coloured prep team. Beetee, Wiress, Tropicana and Marius were no where to be seen, and they wasted no time in ridding me of my clothing, and scolding me for being late and I quote; 'giving us less time to make you look even a little bit remarkable'.

If I didn't know that over half of Panem found me far more attractive than them I might have been offended. Looking at my prep team I felt bad that I had ever thought Tropicana was looked garish and tasteless, because they beat her hands down.

Marmalade was the only male amongst them. He was tall and gangly, his skin a bright, sunny yellow, and his eyes, lips and faux cut hair a bright, sky blue. Despite the colour of his skin and eyes he seemed to favour green clothing, and was wearing a tight neon green tunic and what appeared to be snakeskin leggings.

Marmalade was in charge of my hair, and after my skin had been practically scrubbed raw, and my hair smelt like it had been attacked by an army of toxic flowers, he proceeded to viscously attack my matted curls. Vain or not, I always thought I took good care of my hair, well as much as I could when there was hardly any clean water available to wash it with. Surprisingly he didn't seem to much appreciate my efforts, and had christened my abused mop of hair as 'wild enough it puts Medusa to shame'. Despite it all, I grew rather fond of Marmalade through the ordeal. Either because he had a quirky sense of humour and I admired his sneaky evilness, or because I had some marmalade on my toast for breakfast earlier in the morning, and it had been delicious!

Rumplestiltskin was in charge of my nails. She was a petite, slim woman-child with pale white skin; hair styled in a pixie cut and dyed a glimmering white, and eerily enough white eyes and lips. I guess white was her favourite colour because in addition to all of that she was wearing a white leather dress with no sleeves that fell to mid thigh, white stockings and white platform shoes. She tutted over the state of my nails before sighing and getting to work, just before Marmalade pulled my head back to work on my hair I noticed her lovingly coating my fingers with a glossy white nail varnish.

Ginger completed the team. I actually liked her name, it wasn't as ridiculous as others I hear throughout the morning and I told her so too. I liked it until she told me it was short for Gingerbread-Man anyways. She seemed to take the gingerbread theme to the extreme though. Her skin was dyed a lovely warm, golden, cinnamon colour, her hair was a soft pastel yellow that fell in a straight shimmering sheet down her back.

Her lips were plum purple and her eyes a stunning hot pink. Her dress resembled the gingerbread houses displayed at the Bakers every year during Christmas (gingerbread houses no one could afford, but were nice to look at anyways). It was dark brown, lined with white piping and decorated with odd window shaped squares and triangles stitched here and there in soft pastel colours. Despite Ginger's rather obvious fetish with Gingerbread I later learnt she was rather good at make up and the like.

What I found most unnerving about my prep team however was when they informed me that they were triplets. I knew that most triplets didn't look alike but it was unsettling how different they were in terms of looks (you could on look _so_ different). In fact if it wasn't for the creepy habit they had of speaking in unison you wouldn't think they were related at all, forget about triplets.

By the time my prep team were finished with me, five hours had passed and you could see the night sky creeping into the sky through the large windows that littered the penthouse. They grinned at each other as they circled my naked body their eyes surveying their canvas like a predator would its prey. Satisfied with their creation they straightened up and smiled at each other.

'She's ready' they exclaimed happily, clapping their hands in excitement before rushing out the door.

I smiled as the door slammed shut being them relieved they had finally left. It wasn't that I didn't like them, surprisingly I did I had learnt from their incessant chattering that they were only a couple of years older than me, and that they all possessed rather innocent if not slightly ditzy minds. It was clear that they were groomed to think the Games were normal, part of their everyday lives. The fact that they didn't understand why I didn't want to be in their beloved Capitol is one of the reasons why I was relieved when they left.

Every awry comment, every carelessly thrown bet of who would win the Games this year felt like a punch in my gut. It reminded me of just how different they were to me and how much of a better, easier, more lenient life they must have led, they must lead. Never in fear of being in my position; reaped and being sent to the slaughter house.

The door opened once again and the man I guessed was my stylist walked in. He was different from the others of average height, stocky in build. His skin I could tell was his natural caramel colour and his hair which was cut into a short convenient style was a natural shade of brown. He wore black dress pants and a black dress shirt along with a pair of black dress shoes. The only thing 'Capitol' about him that I could see was the gold eyeliner that framed his almond shaped hazel eyes.

'Hello' he said his voice soft and soothing as he critically surveyed my body.

Blushing furiously I looked around for something to cover myself up with, my cheeks burning brighter by the second.

'I'm Cinna, your stylist'. He said as he handed me a blue silk robe I hadn't noticed he was holding.

I blush an even brighter shade of red

He pointed to a table and chairs beside one of the larger windows in the spacious penthouse. It had been set up with an array of food, ready to be devoured by my very appreciative stomach. I sat down on one of the cushioned stools, and self-consciously piled some pasta and tomato sauce onto my plate. Self-consciously because Cinna was still staring at me, not in a paedophilic way that would have me running for the hills (not that I could see any hills), but like he was observing me the way I picked up my fork, the way I sat on my stool, the expressions that crossed my face.

I raised a forkful of pasta and shoved it in my mouth whilst watching him watch me. He shook his head, his eyes gaining focus, probably only now realising how awkward it was for me to eat with him just staring.

'I thought it would be someone older'

I raised an eyebrow at him even as I continued to shove pasta into my mouth.

'I mean you; I thought you would be older!'

I continued to watch him my face expressionless.

'It doesn't matter that your younger of course, all we have to do is alter the design a little, make it less...' he trailed off biting his lip.

'alluring.', I drawled finishing of his sentence.

'Yes, alluring' he admitted.

I watched as Cinna helped himself to some pasta, smothering it in a creamy chicken sauce rather than the tomato and minced beef sauce I had opted for. He shoved some of the pasta onto his fork, but rather than eat it he seemed to use it as a prop. Waving it around as emphasis as he explained his 'genius' idea to me.

'I thought the idea was finished at first. When I saw you I thought it was ruined. That was of course until I heard what the commentators were saying about you.' He grinned manically at me like I was his saviour which when considering the situation I kind of was.

A little angel they called you!'

I frowned slightly. District Three's industry was technology, nothing angelic about that. I wondered for a moment if my 'normal', 'sympathetic' Capitol stylist was a little batty. As if sensing my doubt in his sanity Cinna smiled widely at me.

'The best designers are the ones with their heads screwed on backwards', he stated.

I gulped in apprehension. Did that mean Cinna really was crazy? Oh god, he wasn't going to something crazy like electrocute me was he? Or set me on fire? I hated fire! What the hell were Beetee and Wiress thinking? He wasn't sympathetic he was messed up in the head!

'Don't worry dear your in safe hands' Cinna announced before digging into his previously untouched dinner.

Was it strange for me to be more afraid of what Cinna planned to do with me than the fact I was probably going to die in a few days?

After we finished eating in peace, well Cinna ate in peace anyways, I ate in constant fear of what tonight's ceremony would bring. Cinna called the prep team back inside and instructed them on what they had to do with me.

Marmalade was told to 'define' my curls, which basically meant make them even curlier, and make sure they stayed that way all night. After an hour of hot tong torture he sprayed foul smelling stuff all over my hair to 'keep it in shape' and sprinkled something else in my hair that I couldn't see. Finally he placed an odd headdress in my hair. It was a circlet made of clear tubing resembling a halo; I wondered what exactly it had to do with district 3?

Rumplestiltskin was told to rid my nails of the white polish she had used earlier, and paint my nails with a glittery silver polish instead. For a minute I thought she was going to give Cinna a piece of her mind for telling her to use a colour other than her favourite, but her siblings sensing the impending drama assured her that silver was only a few shades darker than white, and thankfully she bit the bait. I hated to think what would have become of my poor hands had she gotten her hands on them whilst having a temper tantrum, she might be small but Rumple looked no where near weak.

Cinna stood over Ginger's shoulder as she did my face, advising her as she went along on what to do. First they covered the whole of my body with a smooth and silky cream that made it shimmer and sparkle under the lights. Ginger then slathered on some coal-black lipstick and then outlined my doe-like, golden eyes with black and silver-grey eye-liner making them bug out from my small, heart shaped face. She also swiped on a little bit of mascara on my eyelashes to darken the already thick, long, curly lashes I had inherited from my mother.

Then it was Cinna's turn to do his magic. His masterpiece, my mind-blowing costume, well if I had to describe it using one word it would be _plain. _The outfit consisted of a plain spaghetti strapped dress that was tight to my waist before puffing out like a ballerina's tutu. The only splash of colour was the white netting used for the skirt, and the white ballerina flats I was given.

I didn't look too bad, I thought staring into the mirror. My hair was pretty; the dark brown-black curls falling down past my waist, the other spray Marmalade had used made it sparkle under the lights like the cram they used on my skin. My face was prettily done up also, if you liked the gothic baby-doll style maybe. All that plus the weird halo- style headdress, I suppose I did look angelic, like the perfect vampire child I read about once in an old book hidden in District 3's archive called 'Breaking Dawn'. But whilst the costume looked 'fine' it wasn't the 'mind-blowing' idea I had been promised, with the costume I was wearing I wouldn't be made memorable. Not being memorable meant no sponsors, and no sponsors meant I was going to die. Die!

Moreover I still didn't understand what any of it had to do with my District. However once I made my way to the carriages neither Beetee nor Wiress looked disappointed. They stood in the corner whispering god knows what with Cinna and Marius's stylist who I learned was called Ophelia. Her mother liked Shakespeare she explained when introducing herself to me. Like Cinna, Ophelia wasn't overly 'Capitol'. No extreme changes had occurred to her body yet, and so her pale freckly skin was her own, as was her wild red hair and dark blue eyes.

Her clothing on the other hand was far too bright for me though less extravagant and revealing than the clothing Tropicana wore. She wore a rainbow coloured peasant skirt that swished around her ankles, a neon pink tank top and a puke green military style jacket. She was barefoot and her accessories included multi-coloured beads and stones around her neck, wrists, and ankles, and in her hair.

She and Cinna, I could tell were good friends and they both seemed to have agreed on the same costume ideas as Marius was dressed similarly to me. He wore a black form fitting suit jacket a black dress-shirt and black slacks. His tie was white and so were his leather dress-shoes. Marius's skin was also shimmery and sparkly like mine, but they seemed to have forgone any makeup unlike me he wore no black lipstick. They had however dyed some black streaks into his red hair and the contrast of colours was dazzling. He smiled nervously at me, and as usual I guiltily ignored him.

Instead I took a look at what the other districts were wearing. The non-career districts didn't look much better dressed than me. In fact the poor District 12 tributes stylists seemed to have abstained from the usual miner's outfit this year and the poor things were stripped naked and covered in black dust, which though was probably meant to represent coal dust just made them look ridiculous. The poor kids must be embarrassed I know I would be. It really did not help that they were severely malnourished, 12 being the poorest district they were literally skin and bones.

District 1 on the other hand was covered in jewels as per usual since they were in charge of manufacturing luxury products for the Capitol. Marba Collins, the vicious looking girl I had taken notice of in the reapings seemed angry, I guessed she was a tomboy, as she was furiously picking at the pink toga style dress she had been forced into, and at the gaudy jewels draped around every available patch of skin. I glower at her fussing; at least she would be noticed by sponsors, unlike me.

District 2 was dressed like roman gladiators like they were every year. Their stylists couldn't create outfits fit to attract sponsors if the costumes had to represent their district which was in charge of masonry so they played up the fact that most of the tributes in 2 were trained, were 'gladiators' so to speak. They looked bored, standing broodingly as their stylists fussed around them making last minute adjustments.

District 4 looked mismatched. The scrawny boy no one had volunteered for was standing shirtless with only a net covering what needed to be covered. It looked as though their stylists were recreating the 'Finnick Odair' look from a few years ago. But whilst it had worked for the well formed Finnick it did not work for this year's tribute. You could count the poor boys ribs he was so skinny, and their idiot of a prep team had gone and dyed his hair blue too.

Their girl tribute Annie on the other hand looked stunning. She was easily the best looking girl in this year's competition and would reel in sponsors even if she was pathetic at using weapons. Her stylist seemed to think so too since she was practically naked. Her dark hair was pulled up in a complicated looking twist, and was covered in pearls and diamonds. She wore a pearl shell bikini top, and a flimsy blue sari covered her bottom area. Despite her dazzling appearance Annie looked scared and insecure, constantly looking for reassurance from her mentors Finnick and an old woman I didn't recognise.

Suddenly the gates at the end of the tunnel opened and everyone scrambled into their places. I watched as District 1 made their way through the gates and through the tunnel, out amongst the roaring crowds of ecstatic capitolite's that waited beyond. As District 2 followed them and our charcoal grey horses prepared to follow after them Cinna quickly leaned into the carriage and whispered something into Marius's ear.

'What did he say?' I asked a confused Marius as our carriage travelled down the dark carriage towards the bright light at the end.

'Don't act surprised.'

**Sooooooo late chapter, I said it would be out a week ago but life got involved **

**However this chapters is a little longer than the others so I hope that makes up for it :D**

**I introduced Cinna this chapter. I know he is Katniss' stylist. But I couldn't resist he's one of my favourite characters. I cried so hard when he died.**

**Also while I was writing this I noticed that Averett mentions her dying A LOT that is intentional. She's 12 she needs a way of coping with the Games and I didn't really want her to be some hysterical kid who cries all the time. **

**Oh and Im considering adding other POV into the story like having Beetee and Wiress's thoughts on Averett during the Games. Does that seem like a good idea?**

**Make sure to R&R.**

**Next chapter should be out within next two weeks. It's going to be a good one!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A few Notifications...**

**So kinda disappointed by the lack of reviews on my last chapter especially since I wrote more than I normally would **

**I enjoy writing and will continue to write this story but for me to actually finish it I have to know you actually like it so reviews are very much appreciated even bad ones I can take constructive criticism:D**

**I have also posted this story on my Wattpad account yayyyyyyboooooooks so no one stole it!**

**I have changed Averett's eyes from golden brown to Glasz because I fell in love with Chris Colfer (guy who plays Kurt in Glee) eyes their amazing seriously go on Google and see for yourself! When I edit the story once it's finished ill make the changes but for now in the beginning chapters where it said golden pretend it says Glasz.**

**Anyways new chapter, I was really looking forward to writing this one I had it all planned out for ages we find out Cinna's surprise!**

**I do not own HUNGER GAMES. If I owned HUNGER GAMES my favourite characters that died (FINNICK! PRIM!) would never have died. Instead annoying characters such as Katniss' Mother would have died instead!**

**Chapter 4**

I didn't have much time to ponder on what Cinna had said before the chariot emerged from the tunnel, and Marius and I were greeted by the adoring screams of the millions of Capitol citizens, probably not at us specifically, not the way we were dressed, but the Games in general and the tributes before us. My eyes were temporarily blinded by the bright flashing lights of camera's clicking continuously as we made our way down the road paved out for us. Surprisingly I could distinguish the crowd screaming my name, mine and Marius'.

'Look!' Marius said in awe, pointing towards the giant screen that depicted us in our chariot.

I gaped in astonishment at the transformation portrayed on the screen. Our previously all black costumes were no longer all black and I could finally understand how they represented our district. I quickly neutered the look of surprise on my face taking not of Cinna's advice _try not to look surprised._

There were bright-white, lightning currents travelling around the backdrop of our black costumes, they clearly represented electrical currents and the previously clear halo style headdress I wore was lit up and shone brightly like an actual halo, I looked, I looked, well ironically enough I looked like an angel which was exactly what the Capitol had thought of me and what I was trying to present myself as.

I was no Johanna Mason, heaven forbid, no, I wasn't going to pretend to be weak like she did, I wasn't going to pretend to be a poor little snivelling coward like she did getting a flimsy 2 as her training score and praying on those that wanted to help her, stabbing them in the back!

I shook my head to clear my head of any negative thoughts. It was a parade to attract sponsors; I should be smiling and waving. Using my previous method I shifted slightly behind Marius as though I were shy and smiled brightly at the screaming crowds. They shouted our names in adoration as I waved at them shyly.

Our chariot began to rapidly approach the end of the path and the crowd of spectators. The horses began to slow down and stop as the path ended facing President Snow. The chariots of District 1 and 2 were already lined up and waiting. I noticed the tributes from 1 and 2 glaring evilly at myself and Marius whose costume had lit up similar to my own and had outshone the careers choice of clothing. Cinna had done the impossible, he and Ophelia had made us memorable, and he had surpassed the careers costumes in terms of creativity and uniqueness. Maybe he wasn't as batty as I had previously thought him to be.

We stood there patiently waiting for the other districts to finish the opening ceremonies and get in line. I could hear the capitol citizens behind me cheering for Annie Cresta just like I had expected, I dismissed the urge to turn around and see if she was still feeling self conscious of her looks. Time passed and every few minuets a new chariot would make their way to the line. After about twenty minuets I could hear faraway booing of what I suspected was the District 12 tributes. Despite the fact that they dressed nearly naked themselves the spectators didn't seem to react well to the nude tributes presented to them. As their chariot made their way to the line I snuck a glance at the tributes.

They looked mortified. The girl tributes cheeks were aflame with shame and embarrassment as she hugged her naked torso, and their poor boy tribute that was even smaller than me, which was not easy I was extremely petite for my age, had tears running down his cheeks smudging the black dust he was covered in. I smothered the urge to run over there and hug him to my chest like I would Tariq whenever he was upset about something. I had to remind myself that he was my competition and that he was probably older than me despite his appearance because I knew I was the youngest in this year's Hunger Games.

I turned my head back forward as President Snow cleared his throat to grab the attention of the tributes that faced him and that of the surrounding murmuring crowds. He stood in front of a podium, which stood on a large balcony of what I guessed was either his home or a government building of some kind. Next to him stood Head Gamemaker Seneca Crane, who had only recently replaced his uncle Julius Crane as Head Gamemaker, and something about his conniving smirk told me he wasn't much better than his predecessor and that I should be wary.

He basically repeated the speech he said every year she had watched the opening ceremonies; congratulating the tributes, wishing them luck, telling the crowds how the Hunger Games started etc. He finished with the decade old saying 'Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in your favour!'

I wanted to gauge his eyes out. Happy! Happy he says! How are the Games happy exactly? How are the deaths of 23 children and the traumatisation of one lucky child happy? I wondered how happy he would be if it was his children or his granddaughter participating in the Games.

His innocent little granddaughter who I guessed was only a little younger than me. I had seen her on TV during the crowning of the victor helping her evil grandfather by carrying the crown to him. She wouldn't last long if she were in games. She was skinny enough even I could snap her in two, and she hadn't been brought up to survive at all costs like I had, like undoubtedly my fellow tributes had. I would love to see his face if she was in the Games. It would be a just revenge.

In no time at all we were directed towards another tunnel which led back to where we had first started. Beetee and Wiress greeted us each with warm smiles and comforting pats on the back, while Tropicana blathered on about what a show we put on and how we were sure to attract sponsors. I looked around trying to catch a glimpse of Cinna and Ophelia to congratulate them on their idea, but they were no where to be found.

'The stylists were called to a meeting a few minutes ago but they told me to say you did a great job!' Wiress says as we made our way back to our penthouse.

'You did great', Beetee whispers into my ear when we swept past the peacekeepers guarding, the large doors of the Building.

I squealed in protest when Tropicana pushed me into the glass elevator that I had clearly shown my distaste for earlier in the day.

'Oh, don't be such a baby!' she lectures tutting.

I squeeze my eyes shut and grab Beetee's hand tightly throughout the short journey to the third floor.

'Are you okay?' I hear someone who most definitely is not Beetee mutter into my ear as I unsteadily exit the elevator. Quick as a bullet my eyes shoot open and my hand is unwound from Marius' arm.

'Um yeah, glass... elevator... moving...break...,' I stutter glancing up at him nervously.

I never actually had a conversation with Marius since we had been reaped and even before that, which couldn't be helped since I didn't really know who he was then. It was an unspoken rule in District 3 that you didn't kill your district partner. It just wasn't done which was why allying with him/her was avoided.

There was a case once when both tributes from District 5 made it to the final two. They refused to kill each other so the capitol let their mutts choose which one would make for a better meal. Needless to say it was one of the worse Games I had ever witnessed. As the girl tribute screamed in pain the boy watched from the trees helpless to do anything, it wasn't until the interview with Ceaser that anyone even realised that they had been siblings.

Myself and Marius were by no means siblings but I wasn't going risk watching him die either. Not like that. Besides if by some miracle I made it home it would just add more fuel to the ever growing fire. Marius had a family. The majority of mine were dead, my District would probably see it as a personal insult if I came home and he didn't especially since my father was responsible for the deaths of hundreds.

I choose to avoid Marius, the less close we are the better so I turn away from his concerned gaze and stalk towards my room.

**MPOV**

I knew I was dead the moment they called my name. I wasn't anyone special, just a simple factory worker from 3. There wasn't much else you could do in our District unless you got into the Academy, and that was almost impossible if you weren't a Genius.

I wasn't particularly talented, my IQ was average and I was as muscular as someone could be carrying heavy machinery around all day. I ignored my mother screaming and the muffled sobbing of my siblings who were amongst the other children, and walk up the stage to face my District, anxiously waiting to hear the name of my fellow tribute.

My eyes widen slightly in shock as Averett Sloane is called up to the stage. Though she probably doesn't know me, I know her. Everyone knows Averett Sloane; unfortunately it's not for the right reasons. Her father had gone to work drunken one day and had caused an accident killing hundreds of his fellow workers.

The families of the dead needed someone to blame and as the perpetrator was already dead they targeted the next best thing, his family. It didn't matter to them that Ean Sloane had to give up his place at the Academy-a great honour- because he couldn't support his sibling's part time. It didn't matter that Averett had no friends or that Tariq was just a baby. They needed to grieve and someone to unleash their anger on and they chose to thrust that at a bunch of kids.

I knew I wasn't the only person disgusted at the pleased looks that crossed the faces of many of my fellow citizens when Ean Sloane was reaped a few years ago. I was extremely tempted to punch some guy in the gut for actually cheering when some traitorous tribute slit Ean's throat whilst he slept. Alas one of his friends beat me to it.

I was relieved when Beetee and Wiress took Averett and Tariq in after Ean's death. Don't get me wrong, Im not some perverted guy in love with a 12 year old, there was just something about Averett Sloane that pulled on your protective instincts.

So when I saw her standing there, shakily on the stage beside me I vowed to do everything in my power to bring her back home, because I wasn't anything special, but she was.

((()))

The plan backfired slightly when she refused to look in my direction, let alone to talk to me during the long trip to the Capitol. Reeling from her dismissal and the tear jerking goodbye I had said to my family at the Justice building I did the best I could, outlined her strengths to Beetee and Wiress, who probably knew them already. I played down my own skills I was strong sure, but that was all I had going for me and from the look of some of the other boys reaped in this years Games I wasn't the only one packing some muscle. I wanted all attention focused on Averett. There had never been a 12 year old victor before, but I was determined to make her the first.

((()))

I frowned in confusion when Averett hid behind me after we exited the train, whilst I didn't know her very well I didn't take her for the shy type and her 'stage fright' act didn't fool me. I wasn't that stupid though Tropicana seemed to fall for it.

I wandered what she was playing at especially once she unleashed her spunk whilst refusing to enter the elevator or 'thing' as she so kindly called it. I watched her turn around in confusion as the elevator door swung shut and zoomed up.

'You probably should have given her some directions' I mutter to Beetee before Im pulled into a large sterile room by a bunch of brightly skinned umpaloompa's that introduce themselves as my prep team.

(((()))

After being waxed, buffed and washed thoroughly I was shoved into a white, black and silver suit and pushed towards the chariots where Beetee, Wiress and Tropicana were waiting, by my stylist.

Ophelia... well she was unique. It was the only word I could think of that would describe her justly. We bonded over the mutual fact that we were both gingers and proud of it. Of course things got a little awkward when she asked me if I would have ginger babies with her.

Thankfully before things could get awkward again Cinna, Ophelia's fellow stylist reached the chariot holding on tightly to the shoulder of a very wary faced Averett, who was looking a little scary in her gothic angel dress. Seeing her outfit I was more than a little confused on what exactly we were supposed to be portraying. The tributes from District 3 before us were usually thrust into the same disastrous costumes; crazy mad scientists.

Too soon it was time to board the chariot. Just before it was our turn to go through the tunnel Cinna leaned in and whispered into my ear. My forehead creased slightly in confusion.

'What did he say?' Averett asked.

'Try not to look surprised?' I replied my tone puzzled as we burst through the tunnel into blinding light.

((())))

Cinna and Ophelia had achieved the impossible! They have made Averett memorable. Well made the both of us memorable I suppose. We were sure to have gained some sponsors tonight. Stepping into the elevator I basked in the knowledge that maybe this year was our year, District 3 may have another victor.

I jumped a little when I felt a small hand wind itself around my forearm tightly. I looked down to see Averett's tiny face scrunched up, he eyes squeezed shut determined not to open until she was on firm ground. I kindly escorted her off the elevator once it stopped trying to ignore how the tightness of her hand was cutting the blood flow to my arm.

'Are you okay?' I asked concerned when she didn't immediately open her eyes.

Quick as lightning Averett unwound her hand from around my arm and snapped her glasz eyes open.

'Um yeah, glass... elevator... moving...break...,' she stutter nervously glancing up at me like I was the predator and she was my prey.

For a minute she seemed to contemplate something and a feeling like remorse lit up her eyes before she turned around and stalked to her room leaving me behind to stare after her.

**APOV**

My body felt heavy as I entered my designated room, the dress' weight was dragging me down something I never noticed earlier. I guess it was the nerves. Heading straight for the bathroom I barely had time to glance at the room, but what I did see of it showed that it was similar in style to the one I was given in the train.

My face felt sticky and my hair was stiff with product, so I quickly stripped, struggling slightly with the buttons of my dress, and slid into the shower letting the hot water run down my body and wash all my worries away.

In this warm haven I could pretend I was at home, with Tariq. I could even picture Ean there laughing with my father who was smiling happily, something he hadn't done following up to the last years of his life. My mother would be in the kitchen cooking up a storm, her stomach round with a little brother or sister for Tariq to play with.

I could pretend I lived in a world without the tyranny of the Capitol or the Hunger Games. A place where we went to bed with full bellies every night, somewhere we didn't have to worry about work or money, where kids could be kids. I was pulled out of my daydream by the far off sound of door slamming and chattering exited voices.

I had forgotten that Beetee and Wiress had invited all the Victors for dinner tonight. There were a fair few of them and only so much food, so I quickly got out of the showers and clicked on the button that was designed to dry my body and hair. With a towel wrapped tightly around my body, I ruffled through the chest of drawers that stood beside a large king-sized bed. Grabbing the necessities as well as an orange t-shirt and light blue jeans, I dressed hastily and exited my room.

At the door I was greeted by the sunny, smiling face of my fellow tribute. Marius had also showered. His hair was rid of the black streaks that had been there previously, and he had changed out of his suit and into a green t-shirt and dark blue jeans.

'Hungry?' Marius asked grinning at my haste to get to the dinning room.

'Starved!' I replied enthusiastically.

Entering the room we were accosted by a large group of men and women of varied different ages, shapes and sizes. There were at least 15 people in the room standing in groups and chatting merrily with each other. There were a few I recognised. Seeder, whom I remembered as being rather motherly in her Games and of whom, reminded me of Wiress, Finnick Odair Capitols golden boy, and the old woman that I'd seen accompanying him at the opening ceremonies. There was Chaff whose boy tribute this year was somehow related to him and Haymitch Abernathy the drunken joke from 12.

Watching him stagger around and laugh drunkenly with a fellow Victor who I recalled was called Brutus, I remembered his boy tribute the one who cried during the ceremonies and I felt a pang of sympathy for him. He had no chance, not with Haymitch for a mentor anyways. I despised men like Haymitch Abernathy, they reminded me too much of my own father who had given up after my mothers death. He had something to live for, me and Tariq and Ean, but he abandoned us when we needed him most, and died making us the most hated people in District 3. Abernathy had no right to be drunk all the time, as the only living victor of 12 he had a responsibility towards his tributes.

Marius tugged on my elbow and pulled me towards the buffet that had been set out. I grabbed a plate and piled it high with some mash and beef stew. Setting it to a side I poured myself some orange juice and grabbed a bowl of strawberries before following Marius to the corner of the room where he had situated himself.

I took a seat opposite him and began to eat my dinner eagerly; it seemed like ages since lunch with Cinna. I ignored Marius who was staring intensely at me and ignored the Victors who surrounded me. Instead I opted for staring out of the window and into the night sky. I could see a few stars tonight. Living in 3 that was kind off rare since the dust and smoke from the factories tended to get everywhere and cover the night's sky.

Soon enough my plates had been scrapped clean, my juice drunk and my strawberries consumed. Glancing at Marius I noticed that he too was finished an seemed to be waiting for me before escaping the party.

'Let's go', I said getting up and leaving my plates where they were.

I looked at Marius and saw him look at his plates and mine. I shook my head and pointed to a white clad server who aready was weaving his way through the crowd to get our plates.

'See, its all taken care of', I grinned momentarily forgetting my vow to avoid Marius.

Grabbing his hand I tugged at it and pulled him into the crowd weaving my way through the people, and towards the corridor leading to our rooms. Letting go of his hand I looked back to make sure he was behind me before carrying on. Unfortunately I wasn't watching where I was going and I accidently knocked into someone.

This person was slightly bigger than me and I was unceremoniously thrown to the floor. I got up slowly and brushed my hands on my jeans as they were slightly raw with carpet burn.

'Im sorry, are you all right?' asked the person who I knocked into.

'That's okay' I began looking up 'it's my fault I should have...' I froze as my eyes locked onto those of Johanna Masen.

She too was frozen her eyes wide like she had just seen a ghost. I glowered furiously at her, my eyes glaring daggers into her head, and she just stood there gaping like a fish. I waited for her to say something, anything. Instead she straightened her back and snapped her mouth close a blank uncaring look crossing her face.

That's when I saw red.

**What did you think? I hope this chapter satisfies you since it will probably be a while before my next one is up. I have exams coming up!**

**Next chapter we fins out what Johanna has done to earn Averett's wrath and we are formally introduced to Annie and District 12 boy:D**

**Read and REVIEW please!**

_**bluebacon: I'm glad you enjoy the story and that you think its good. I don't plan on abandoning it in fact I plan on a sequel:D when this one is finished. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**_


	5. Chapter 5

**I can't believe Im on chapter five already! **

**Lots of exiting things happening this chapter;**

**We find out why Averett hates Joanna.**

**Ean's Games**

**And a whole lot of different points of view!**

**Also this chapter will include the use of the term 'bitch' for any sensitive readers as Averett does get a little emotional.**

**Also there will be a character death, don't know if I should classify it as graphic or not but if it is make sure to tell em so I can warn future readers:D**

**Announcement; I am definitely not going to be posting a new chapter until late May or early June. I love this story and writing but its distracting me from revising from my exams and bad exams means bad results and bad results equal NO JOB! So I am not abandoning this story I am simply putting it on hold for a month or so**

**Though I loathe admitting it; All rights to the Hunger Games and any character I have conveniently stolen for my story belong to Suzanne Collins**

**Chapter 5**

**JPOV**

It was at the Welcome Back to Hell party that I first saw her. Well not exactly, I'd seen her at the reaping recaps, but hadn't recognised her then. It had been years, but those golden, multicoloured eyes still haunted me...

_3, 2, 1, GO!_

_I ran. _

_Disregarding my mentor's advice I avoided the cornucopia and headed straight for the forest instead. I had been hard, pretending I was a weakling, like I didn't even stand a chance when that was far from the truth. My fingers itched to wield an axe. Whilst in training I had to avoid it so as not to show my weaknesses and reveal my façade._

_The other tributes had avoided me, so thankfully I hadn't grown attached to anyone which my mentor had recommended. I think she'd been forced to watch a sibling die or something like that; it was before my time anyways. I ran until my legs burned and my insides felt like jelly, exhausted I collapsed at the bottom of a large tree. _

_Panting for breath, I felt as though I should have taken my mentors advice, I could kill for some water just about now. My throat was parched, my heart was thumping much too fast, and sweat was pouring off me in buckets._

_Suddenly, I heard rustling comes from some bushes nearby and I watched in fear and horror as a boy, about my age stepped out. Defenceless as I was I couldn't put up much of a fight even against a boy as scrawny as he was. Instead I was forced to do the one thing I loathed; beg._

'_Please don't kill me', I whimpered refusing to look up at him._

'_You're the girl who scored a two aren't you?' the boy stated rather than asked._

'_Yes', I whispered my mouth tightening slightly at the pity in his tone. I wasn't weak I could have easily scored an eight or a nine if I wanted to. _

_My eyes widened in surprise as a hand shot out in front of my face. Hesitantly I grabbed it; unlike what I would have done he helped me to my feet._

'_Allies?' the boy questioned forcing me to look up at him puzzled. _

'_Allies?' I said looking up into multicoloured eyes quizzically. _

'_Yes allies,' the boy said grinning._

_I stared at him stunned at his idiocity. If I were him I would have killed me by now. He had the perfect chance, the so called 'weak' girl from 9 was at his feet defenceless yet he hadn't killed me. Well, I wasn't going to turn away such a brilliant opportunity._

'_Johanna' I introduced myself._

'_Ean.'_

I blinked, bringing myself back to reality. I hadn't thought about Ean for what seemed like years. The silly trusting boy from 3 who died with honour, not like me, I lost myself. I remembered the girl too. It was during my Victory Tour and I had been especially dreading District 3 in particular...

'_Luckily for you the District 3 girl was a bloodbath, and from what I've gathered no one was particularly fond of the boy', my mentor Jacqueline said as we got off the train._

_I looked at her in shock. Ean had been so nice, so sweet and clearly he had adored his family from the way he had spoken about them. How no one was mourning his death was a mystery to me. Netherthless I followed her obediently, the sooner we left this district, the sooner I got to go home and spend some time with my family and friends._

_Smoothing the dress I'd been forced into by Cactus-Moone my district escort I made my way to the podium on the stage and stood in front of the microphone. In a Monotone voice I recited the speech that Cactus-Moone had given me to memorise before the tour of which I had said about nine times already._

_From my position on the stage I could make out all the audience. Everyone was standing, apart from the mayor and his family, as well as the families of the tributes who hadn't made it home. Seated on my left was the girl tributes family. I had never learned her name, but from the looks of it she was an only child as only her father sat comforting her sobbing mother._

_I dreaded looking to my left where Ean's family would be seated, despite this my eyes reluctantly turned in that direction. I knew who they were immediately; Ean had told me all about them, the night he died. His sister who had just recently turned nine held her baby brother in her lap. I breathed in relief when she refused to look at me; it made it all just a little bit easier._

_Finishing my speech, I waited for the polite round of applause that followed before stepping off the podium and making my way off the stage. It was then Ean's little sister finally decided to look at me. I recoiled from the look of pure murderous rage that was glaring daggers in my direction. Piercing multicoloured dyes I noted, the same as her brothers._

Those eyes were glaring at me now, just like they had all those years ago. I deserved it, I knew I did, but I had spent too much time telling myself that it was the Games, and that what I had done was to save my life and their was no reason to feel guilty. I couldn't let this girl ruin the little mentality I had tried so hard to maintain. So I shut off, my expression closed, set in its permanent poker face.

I wasn't very shocked when she lunged at me.

**FPOV**

I didn't think much of Averett Sloane when I first saw her make her way up on that stage. She was twelve, which was always a shame; also she didn't have much to offer like many tributes from her district before her. She wasn't old enough to be as smart as Wiress and Beetee had been and that was the only thing that would have helped her really.

I was much more interested in helping my own tributes. We hadn't been very lucky this year, no careers. Yes, careers made me want to puke- who wanted to go into the Games? - But at least they stood a chance.

Henry was only fourteen. The same age I was when I won my Games. Unlike me however Henry did not have the looks, and unfortunately he didn't have the skills either. I knew immediately he would be a bloodbath so I made Mags mentor him instead.

It wasn't because I didn't think he could win- who knew he could surprise us- nor was it because I wanted to mentor a victor. Unlike most mentors I didn't like to get to know my tributes, it would only hurt more when they died. Mags on the other hand was kind, gentle and motherly, and I knew she would encourage Henry and could help him far more than I would.

My tribute was a beauty; unfortunately. I guiltily hoped she wouldn't win. Annie Cresta was a sweet, insecure, fragile little thing. She was self conscious and too caring for her own good. I had a feeling it would be her downfall and even if by some chance she won she wouldn't be able to handle prostitution. Hell I doubted she would even come out sane.

The opening ceremonies went as well as can be expected. The Capitol reacted well towards Annie but I could tell were slightly disappointed in Henry, not that anyone would actually tell the boy that.

The theme this year had been sexy. Annie had certainly looked it, but Henry's stylist had forced him into an outfit similar to my own and the poor boy's skinny frame couldn't pull it off.

Little Annie had a crush on me too, it wouldn't have been so bad if she didn't always looked to me for reassurance, hadn't anyone ever told her how pretty she was, I wondered. Soon it was time to make our way to District 3 penthouse for the annual Welcome Back to Hell feast, it was Beetee and Wiress' turn to host this year.

I had just grabbed a plate when a slim pair of hands covered my eyes.

'Guess who?'

I rolled my eyes and smiled slightly. Fully grinning I put down the plate I was grabbing and removed the hands that blindfolded me and spun around to face Jo.

She smiled impishly at me, her short brown hair sticking up in spikes all around her face like a pixie. We grabbed some plates and piled on the food before sitting down to catch up.

Johanna Masen was probably my best friend. I met her the year after her games. I remember thinking what a shame it was that she had hacked off all her lovely long reddish-brown hair.

She was my age and had won her games the year after I did when she was fifteen. She was smart, brave and a brilliant actor. Unfortunately she was also very pretty, unlike me she refused Snow's 'offer' and payed for it.

No one really knew what happened but one minute Jo had loving parents and a truckload of siblings and the next she didn't. When Snow asked again her answer was still the same. I asked her once why she didn't agree the second time, she stared blankly at me before answering.

'I have nothing left to live for, nothing more he can take, so why give him his reward?'

We made small talk until we ran out of food.

'Im going to get some more dessert' Joe said smiling at me.

She'd been gone for about five minuets before I got bored and went looking for her. I found her standing in front of an enraged Averett Sloane, he face blank and expressionless. I watched in horror as Averett leaped on her.

**MPOV**

I wasn't so surprised when Averett leapt towards Johanna Masen, Netherthless I quickly grabbed her around the waist and held her withering, frantic body. Her limbs flailed around as she desperately tried to get out of my grip.

We didn't talk about Johanna Masen back at home. We never talked about the Victors that had killed our tributes. The district may have been cold towards Averett and her siblings but they were as much disgusted as I was when Ean was killed, how he was killed.

**Third Person **

_Johanna and Ean had set up camp just before nightfall. They didn't talk as the y gathered wood for a small fire nor when Ean divided up the food he had managed to snatch from the cornucopia. It wasn't until they were lying on the cold, hard ground opposite each other and facing the warmth of the small fire that Ean spoke to Johanna._

'_Do you have any family waiting for you at home?'_

_Johanna startled, looked up from the flames._

'_I do', she said softly._

_Ean grinned boyishly at her; family was clearly as subject he liked._

'_My parents passed away a while ago, but I have a sister Averett she's nine and Tariq my brother he just turned one'_

_Johanna looked pityingly and him, she couldn't imagine a life in which her mother, father and many siblings were not apart of._

'_I live with my mother and father and my siblings'_

'_How many do you have?' Ean inquired._

_Johanna's face became animated as she talked about her siblings._

'_There's Jaime and James- they're twins- and their the oldest. There's me and then there's Marie, Eleanor and James'._

'_Sounds great', Ean murmured wistfully, 'Mother always wanted a big family, but she died giving birth to Tariq'_

_Johanna lay on the ground and stared up into the sky in silence, not quite knowing how to respond. She was starting to like this boy which was dangerous. She would have to leave especially if she wanted to find an axe._

'_One of us should stay up and keep watch', Ean suggested._

'_I'll do it' Johanna said not feeling very tired._

'_Fine wake me up in a few hours though, and take this' he said handing her a dagger she hadn't noticed he had. _

'_You might need it' he said before settling on the ground and huddling close to conserve his body heat._

_Within minutes he was asleep and Johanna could hear soft snoring coming from his side of the fire. Slowly and quietly she stood up, and sneaked towards Ean. Quietly she grabbed the pack set next to him and slung it over her shoulder. She was just about to leave when she remembered the knife in her hand._

_She had to win, she told herself as she knelt down next to Ean. She had to go home, she had too much too live for to die alone and miserable in the Games. Johanna's hand shook as she lowered the dagger to Ean's neck and quickly swiped it across._

_She hadn't expected so much blood nor had she expected him to wake up, but he did and for a few seconds she could hear the gargled noise of a boy chocking on his own blood. Multi-coloured eyes stared accusingly at her before sliding shut._

_Her first kill._

**MPOV**

The whole District had gathered in the town square for the first day of the Games as per usual. District members had helped the distraught parents of the girl tribute make their way home after they had watched their daughter being slaughtered in the bloodbath. Out of loyalty to District 3 and out of tradition the majority of the District stuck around to see if Ean made the night.

He didn't.

I'll never forget the pure agonised scream that came from Averett that night. I remember watching as the hysterical nine year old collapsed on the ground, her tiny frame shaking from the frantic sobbing that overcame her.

Ean was one of our own despite his fathers wrongdoings, and I think more than one person felt guilty for their actions towards him that night watching as Maria, the butcher's wife carried the hysterical nine year old child away.

**APOV**

I struggled, frantically trying to get out of Marius' strong grip.

'Let go Marius!' I screeched clawing furiously at his tight arms.

'Not until you calm down'

'DON'T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN' I roared my voice hushing the murmurs and whispering around us.

'LOOK AT HER MARIUS; she's not even sorry for what she did!' I exclaimed angrily, glaring at the murderous bitch who dared to stand in front of me with no emotion on her face whatsoever.

'Averett honey that's not true' Wiress said gently pushing herself to the front of the gobsmacked crowd around her, a worried Beetee at her side.

'It is!' I insisted my eyes not leaving the emotionless face of my brother's killer.

She showed no remorse at all. I had always though if I ever met her, face to face that is, she would apologise, tell me it was either him or her. but she didn't she just stood there like a bloody vegetable! I wanted her to react, I needed her to react.

'You deserved everything you got!' I snarled.

'Im glad your family is dead! Im glad you're all alone! Im glad you have nothing to live for!'

I watched as Johanna crumpled before my eyes, but I couldn't stop, I wouldn't stop.

'I was NINE; NINE and you didn't even have the decency to kill him quickly. You watched as he chocked on his own blood knowing I was watching everything! You DISGUST me!'

Triumphantly I watched with narrowed eyes as Johanna Masen slid to the ground silent tears falling down her face. Then taking no notice of the crowd glaring accusingly at me I went to bed.

**WOW! Im drained just writing this. I have never written anything particularly emotional before so I hope I did Averett justice and now you know why she hates Johann though I haven't decided if that will be forever yet:D**

**Averett was mean this chapter but remember she has yet to go through the Games herself and Johanna kinda deserves it.**

**I added Finnick POV because he is my FAVOURITE character. Not only because he is super good looking but because he suffered through so much and because he loved Annie when other only saw a crazy girl- I could write an essay about my love for Finnick!- Suzanne Collins greatest mistake was killing him so I just pretend it never happenned!**

**Unfortunately no Annie & Finnick in my fanfic! Sorry fellow Annie/Finnick lovers **

**As always Read and Review! The more reviews the quicker the chapters get out.**

**bluebacon; Im glad you liked the last chapter and hope you enjoyed this one just as much. It's nice to know someone enjoys what I write! :D**

**Savysnape7; YAY! Im really happy you like the story! I really shouldn't have written this chapter (should be revising) but you and bluebacon put a huge smile on my face so I couldn't resist.**

**Question: Do you like the multiple POV's?**


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